Eighth Day Of The Week
by moon71
Summary: Eiri said that Shuichi could stay with him for just one week. So what should Shuichi do when that week is over? As he makes his way home, it begins to look like Eiri might have made that decision for him... FINISHED!
1. Shuichi

**EIGHTH DAY OF THE WEEK**** by Moon71**

**PART 1 - SHUICHI**

**SUMMARY: **Eiri said that Shuichi could stay with him for just one week. So what should Shuichi do when that week is over? Offer to leave? Or just wait and hope Eiri doesn't remember the deal? As he makes his way home, it begins to look like Eiri might have made the decision for him…

**TIMELINE: **Early in the anime… or the manga, whichever you prefer…

**RATING: **K – sadly nothing naughty, besides a few idle thoughts…

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine, though I do make rather nice chocolate cakes…

**NOTES: **I have discovered to my great discomfiture that I can be a pedantic nitpicker when it comes to stories I like as much as Gravitation – apparently I just _have _to know what happened after a particular scene ended or how certain events came about. The fact that Shuichi managed to outstay his original "welcome" by Eiri by at least a month was one pointless little detail which my brain kept fixating on, and in the end I came up with this.

Once I wrote it, however, I was ready to abandon this story because it seemed to have very little plot, had little or no dialogue and ultimately seemed to be a carbon-copy of "Twenty Seven Days" which I was working on at the same time. But with a lot of editing and a bit of inspiration I managed to salvage it, and somewhere in the process produced "Fantasy" as well! Let me know if it was worth it!

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It's going to be a good evening,

Shuichi declared to himself as he crossed the pedestrian bridge, keeping a tight grip on the fragile box he carried, _I'm going to make sure it's a good evening._

F_or_ a start, he would be on his best behaviour. He wasn't completely sure what that was, at least where Yuki was concerned, because Yuki talked so little about what he did or didn't like – not just regarding Shuichi but regarding anything. As Shuichi turned the corner and began the usual tramp up the hill to Yuki's block, he considered what he had managed to learn about his enigmatic new love in the space of a week.

Things Yuki didn't like: Noise, questions, whining, pestering, mess, interruptions when he was working and being touched unexpectedly. Things Yuki did like: cigarettes, coffee, sweets, cold beer, hot showers, lying in, cooking, reading and… of course… sex.

And Shuichi himself? Which list did he belong in? It was still pretty hard to tell.

When Shuichi had appeared at Yuki's flat, announcing his intention to move in, he had not had much of a plan in mind. Almost since the day they had met in the park, Yuki had so captivated Shuichi's mind – and heart – that he found it almost unbearable to go a day without seeing him at least once. And as they appeared to be getting on quite well – well enough to be making love, at any rate – it had seemed the perfect plan for them to live together. Once this idea had blossomed in Shuichi's brain, he had thought it so wonderful that he had not stopped to think what Yuki might make of it – or what _living together _might actually entail.

When he had arrived at Yuki's door with a blanket and a pillow, he hadn't really considered what arrangements a cohabiting couple would enjoy. He hadn't even really thought of himself and Yuki as a _couple _in the romantic sense – had in fact been relying on the older, worldlier man to define their relationship for him. All Shuichi had known was that he wanted to be close to Yuki – to spend as much time with him as he could; to share things with him and watch him as he worked or relaxed or ate or slept.

More often than not the six nights that had followed his arrival reflected the first one – Yuki working late into the night, with Shuichi left to amuse himself. It hadn't bothered him – it was fun just to be in that big, elegant house; to curl up on the sofa and watch his Nittle Grasper videos or work on his music. After he had left his family home, hoping to have more "time and space" for his music, he often ended up feeling lonely and uninspired and spent more time sleeping on Hiro's floor than in his own place. With Yuki nearby, even if not within sight, inspiration flowed easily. And if Yuki took a break from his writing and came and sat with him – or, even better, came to take him to bed – then happiness became ecstasy.

There were times when Shuichi thought he could have been content just like that – could have happily spent the rest of his days living just as he had those last few with Yuki, without demanding any more. Unrealistic though it was, knowing himself, knowing his irrepressible urge to have whatever he wanted absolutely, with Yuki just as with his music, at that moment he really though he would settle for whatever he could get, as long as he got a little more time.

_I can't believe a week has passed so quickly, _he had mused with a twinge of sadness as he had awoken under Yuki's roof (bliss!) on Yuki's couch (shame!) that morning. _So what now? Yuki didn't say anything about the week being up last night – but then again he didn't say much of anything._

Somehow, once again, Shuichi had been relying on Yuki to tell him what would happen next. He didn't want to raise the subject himself, for fear it might remind Yuki to send him packing. But then again, wouldn't it make him appear more mature if he simply packed up his belongings and announced his intention to leave?

_But Yuki's so… shy, when it comes to expressing his feelings! He never actually said he wanted to see me, but he never turned me away either. And he _did _agree to let me stay… at least for a week. _

_If only he'd just say _something. _Even something simple, like "I'm fond of you, Shuichi" or "it's nice living with you" or even "I like you!" Hell, right now I'd settle for a "hello Shuichi!" He almost never says my name, even in bed… _

_If I said I was going to leave, could I rely on him asking me to stay? Even if he wanted me to? Can I take the risk?_

After much thought, Shuichi had rallied his courage and decided to do nothing.

Nothing direct, anyway.

And it was with that plan in operation that he made his way back to for Yuki's flat for the eighth evening in a row, planning his perfect night.

Fortuitously, he had received his first real wages cheque that day for the gig they had played opening for Ask, which meant he had money to spend. Even better, now that Seguchi Tohma was taking notice of them he didn't need to spend it all on equipment or promotion. Instead, he would spend it on Yuki. He had been more or less living off him for a week, and hadn't really given that fact much thought until now, but surely Yuki would appreciate it if Shuichi showed he wasn't just a freeloader.

He didn't think Yuki would agree to go out to dinner with him, but surely he would enjoy a takeaway, with the richly iced, very expensive chocolate cake he had just bought from Yuki's favourite bakery for dessert… and then whatever else Yuki wanted… Shuichi rather hoped it would be sex, but if it was an evening of writing interspersed with coffee, cigarettes and boring programmes about thirty ways to cook octopus then he would not complain.

Shuichi glanced down at the cake he had been carrying so carefully, feeling his heart squeeze just a little. How charmed he had been when he had noticed Yuki's love of sweets – for Yuki to have such a weakness made him that little bit more human. The cake had been packed in a plain white box – maybe he should write some little message on it? But what? _What would sound good? _Shuichi wondered a little anxiously, _what would sound good to Yuki? I want him to know I'm grateful for the week we've had… but I don't want to give him ideas… it can't sound too much like a good-bye…_

_If only we'd got a bit further than this in one week! __I don't think I'd mind moving out again if I knew for certain… if I knew Yuki wanted to be – _Shuichi hesitated, feeling his cheeks grow warm at the mere thought, but forced himself to complete it – _wanted to be my boyfriend… _

Shuichi blinked, awakening from his muse as his eyes alighted on a tall, graceful, fair haired figure turning into the road several meters ahead of him, carrying – rather endearingly, Shuichi thought – a bag of groceries. Feeling that now familiar fizz of excitement, he was about to call out when someone beat him to it.

"_Yuki Eiri!"_

Shuichi froze. The call had come from the window of a small, snappy little red sports car which had just pulled up a short distance ahead of Yuki. Yuki stopped for a moment, as if in hesitation, but then carried on walking. A second later, a woman slid gracefully out of the driver's seat and intercepted him.

Shuichi could not help staring at her.

Nor, as she moved confidently towards Yuki could he help retreating backwards just a little.

The woman was dressed in a light blue suit jacket and a very short black skirt; her black hair was coiled elegantly at the back of her neck and she wore large gold earrings which sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight as she moved her head. Even in profile Shuichi could see she was beautiful; as beautiful in her way as Yuki was in his.

She might just be some overzealous fan, eager to get Yuki's autograph, but her manner – and Yuki's – belied this. Though Yuki's expression didn't give much away, it was quite obvious that he knew her; he certainly wasn't making a particular effort to get away from her. Admittedly, though the woman was vigorous and expressive in her movements, Yuki kept his usual quiet poise, his hands sunk casually into his pockets, making no move to touch her. But when it came down to it, Yuki would have probably behaved the same way if it was Shuichi standing there instead.

After a moment, the woman reached into her handbag and drew out a cigarette from a silver case, placing it between her lips. Shuichi watched Yuki light it for her; watched her elegantly exhale smoke into the air above their heads; watched Yuki's eyes wander lazily over her slim figure.

_Does Yuki ever look at _me_ like that?_ Shuichi wondered unhappily. _Maybe… sometimes… when we're having sex. But the rest of the time? _

_Does he even think about me when I'm not there?_

_Maybe that's the real reason I don't want to __move out… I'm just afraid that Yuki will forget about me if he doesn't see me every day._

They were well matched, Yuki and the girl, Shuichi acknowledged dully; tall, attractive, sophisticated… that was surely the kind of person a man like Yuki Eiri would want to be seen with. Not some scruffy teenaged rocker like Shuichi…

All at once, Shuichi's happy plans for the night, his hopes to stay longer with Yuki, even his fond memories of the previous week, seemed to dissolve into nothing. A heaviness settled over him, a sadness he could not brush aside with his usual optimism.

_Maybe what I really wanted was just to be sure of how Yuki was spending his nights. At least if I knew he was sleeping in his room, even if I wasn't in his bed at least I could be sure no-one else was in it either…_

_Maybe what I'm seeing now is what I've been afraid of all along…_

How could he have been so naïve? How could he have kidded himself Yuki would want him to stay on? _This _was what Yuki was about – glamorous, attractive women, easy conquests, one night stands. Everyone said so, even Yuki himself – more or less. He had told Shuichi again and again he didn't go out with men. So what if Yuki liked him, thought him "a little cute" once in a while, even felt sorry enough for him or just tired enough of his persistence to let him stay a few days. It didn't really mean anything.

Shuichi watched the couple for a moment longer before quietly turning on his heel and starting back down the road. Perhaps eight days was too long for Yuki – perhaps he was already longing to spend the evening with a woman like that. Perhaps even now he was inviting her out to dinner… hoping to take her home with him…

Shuichi knew he was overreacting – he didn't have any real reason to believe that the woman had come at Yuki's behest, or that he had been hoping to see her. But it had been a timely if rather rude awakening – a warning that the invitation to stay longer than a week would never come. Yuki was not his, Yuki was nobody but Yuki's; he was leading the comfortable life of a wealthy bachelor and there was no room in that life for stupid lovesick brats called Shindou Shuichi.

Shuichi gave a heavy sigh as he paused at the corner, looking sadly down at the chocolate cake, fighting the urge to throw it into the nearest rubbish bin. Maybe it was better if he didn't go home – go back to _Yuki's,_ he forcibly corrected himself. If Yuki was just possibly planning on bringing that woman home with him, it would save them all some embarrassment. Maybe he should go to Hiro's for the evening. Or maybe he should go and see his parents – they were always complaining they didn't see him enough.

No. He would go back the way he had come. If Yuki wanted him to go away, he could tell him to his face. He had told Shuichi enough times that he was an idiot and an annoying brat - one more time wouldn't do any harm. If he passed Yuki and that woman on the way, then so be it. He looked down at the cake once more. Maybe he should write a note on the box after all. What was it his mum used to make him to say to Hiro's parents when he had gone there to play after school?

_Thank you for having me._

A small, reluctant smile tugged at Shuichi's lips. Even so, he couldn't help crossing the road and continuing up to Yuki's place on the other side of the street.

**TBC: PART 2 – EIRI: **So we've had Shuichi's perspective, but what about Eiri's? Has Shuichi really got anything to worry about? (Please keep in mind, dear readers, this is only a light hearted two part story and not a multi-part angstfest!)


	2. Eiri

**EIGHTH DAY OF THE WEEK by Moon71**

**PART 2 – EIRI**

**SUMMARY: **While Shuichi makes his way despondently to Eiri's home, the sudden reappearance of an old acquaintance prompts the writer to consider his relationships – past and present...

**NOTE:** I want to thank everyone who reviewed part one from the very bottom of my heart. These past few weeks haven't been the easiest for me and the sudden demise of my laptop hasn't helped, but your reviews have made me feel so much better. To anyone who has emailed me or left messages on my LJ, I promise I will catch up as soon as I can. For the many of you who review so quickly and intelligently, I hope more stories to come will show my gratitude.

Sorry there are no more chapters of this one to come – there are limits to what I can do with an idea set within the anime timeline if I don't want to go AU; I'll go into that more when I post the "sequel" to "Sushi Bar" (it's ready, honest!) but for now I hope the ending to this is satisfying enough considering the fact that Eiri and Shuichi are in so early a stage in their romance!

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Akahoshi Emiko. It was amazing how quickly a name and a face could drop out of Eiri's memory. Yet it couldn't have been more than two years since he had last seen her.

Then again, perhaps he had deliberately blotted her out, as his psychiatrist was fond of telling him he did with so many memories he would rather not have. Sensei seemed to think he was particularly sensitive to memories which suggested bad judgement on his part. Well in Emiko's case, she might be right.

It was surprisingly painless to recall that little episode of his life now. It all seemed rather trivial. Actually it had really been Mika's fault – Mika and their father, coming up with that crackbrained scheme to marry Eiri off to little Usami Ayaka. Almost overnight he was betrothed to some chaste Kyoto virgin barely of marriageable age who he couldn't imagine sleeping with – let alone living with – in his wildest dreams.

_A proper respectable marriage to a girl of virtuous character will help to remind you of your duty and curb your promiscuous excesses._

So his father had written to him, when Eiri had refused to come home to Kyoto or answer his calls.

_Ayaka will be good for you, _Mika had tired to soften the blow; _she's so gentle and kind… she could give you a fresh new start._

Yeah. Right.

He'd been so angry he had hardly spoken to Mika for six months. So angry indeed that he had been only too susceptible to Emiko's plans.

Up until Emiko, most of the women Eiri slept with fell into two categories. They either wanted him for his looks, his body and his sexual prowess, or they wanted him for his money and his lifestyle. Whichever they wanted he gave them, but only on his terms and only for as long as they held his interest, which usually wasn't very long.

Emiko was something new, at least to a young and recently successful novelist as Eiri had been when he met her. She was a partner in a small but increasingly popular private art gallery. While her aunt, the senior partner, took care of the acquisitions and the finances, Emiko excelled in promotion and sales. She was intelligent, articulate and charming, capable of persuading rich executives to buy the work of her featured artists – sometimes good, sometimes abysmal – at exorbitant prices. Unlike Eiri she never forgot names or faces… and she never failed to make use of a connection.

For Eiri, she seemed the perfect counter to his family's plans with Ayaka. On the one hand she was independent and undemanding – she never expected Eiri to be faithful, never expected them to spend a lot of time alone together out of the bedroom, never talked about their moving in together, let alone getting married. And because she had her own money and her own career, Mika couldn't dismiss her as a gold digger.

For a while he took considerable malicious delight in being seen at Emiko's private viewings or inviting her to his book launches or even the dull receptions and cocktail parties Mika would host for Seguchi's business associates which up until then Eiri had avoided like the plague. The fact that he and Mika were still hardly on speaking terms only added to his satisfaction.

It seemed an equitable enough arrangement for a while. They were certainly using one another, but they were both aware of it. All the same, it did not last long.

For one thing, Emiko had begun to push her luck. She started pestering him to invite Mika and Tohma to her viewings. She wanted introductions to the Ukais, to Sakuma Ryuichi (who was thankfully in New York by that time); to other writers belonging to the same publishing house as Eiri.

But even before that, Seguchi had begun to work his insidious influence on Eiri, pointing out that nobody could actually force him into marriage and with Ayaka so far away in Kyoto, there was no reason for Eiri to make a decision in haste. And, _of course, _Seguchi was right. Eiri's Tokyo life had continued uninterrupted. He got on with his writing, kept to his solitary ways; dated – and bedded – as many women as he liked. The unwanted betrothal seemed like the echo of a dream; Usami Ayaka herself a distant, faded memory.

And very soon Eiri was growing tired of attending boring functions and looking at mediocre, commercially driven art. In fact he was growing bored of Emiko in general.

Unfortunately, Emiko didn't seem to sense the shift in the wind. She had apparently not noticed anything at all until Eiri had failed to invite her to a book launch, mainly because he couldn't stand the author or her windbag novels and had no intention of attending it himself. Emiko had turned up at his place in a fury, nagging and scolding like a harpy and accusing him of breaking some unwritten agreement they had never made.

Eiri had served his revenge cold. He had turned up at her next gallery viewing with another woman.

Meeting Emiko again now, it all seemed rather childish. Emiko herself seemed far more reasonable than he remembered her – her manner was amicable rather than grasping or spuriously ingratiating; she actually seemed a little rueful. Her smile appeared natural and her demeanour suggested a new calm.

Well, with luck she had learned her lesson. Yuki Eiri belonged to no-one. Eiri had certainly learned _his_ – never to let anyone get close for long enough to start claiming squatter's rights…

Eiri's gaze began to wander across the street. And there, if sent on a cue from the gods themselves, was Shindou Shuichi.

A coincidence, nothing more. Besides, Shuichi was… different. Eiri didn't know quite what he meant by that, but there it was. Mika had said much the same thing the day after Shuichi had moved in. She had considered it a cause for concern, but she was just worrying the way she always did. Whatever Shuichi was, he was no threat. This time Eiri was in full control.

What was the idiot doing over there, anyway? He was probably so lost in some daydream of touring with Nittle Grasper that he had forgotten what side of the street Eiri lived on.

The kid carried himself well, that couldn't be denied. And he had better legs than some of the women Eiri had dated, as well as the most marvellously supple and flexible body… a shame he hadn't had more time to try that body out, thanks to Mizuki and her damnable deadlines, but maybe tonight…

"I really am glad I've run into you, Yuki-san," Emiko was saying, "perhaps it really _is _karma! I mean, of all the places to run into you, and with such little time to spare…" All at once she had Eiri's complete attention. This did not sound good; it was better to be on full alert for the next few minutes. "I did think of looking you up before I went back to Paris, but after our less than amicable separation I wasn't sure how you'd…"

"_Paris?" _Eiri echoed stupidly.

For a moment Emiko glared at him with flashing dark eyes. Then, to Eiri's astonishment, she burst into loud, high pitched giggles which reminded him unpleasantly of Shuichi. He didn't remember her having such an infectious laugh – but then again, he didn't remember her laughing much at all back then.

"Yuki Eiri, you always were the most _terrible _listener!" Emiko declared, placing her hands on her hips and fixing him with a playfully admonishing look. "Have you even heard a word I've been saying? I moved to Paris two years ago to manage the export of our modern Japanese artists. There's quite a market for them in Europe now, you know! Well, to be honest, even if there wasn't I wouldn't come back to Tokyo – I'm much happier now I've put some distance between myself and Aunt Ryoko…"

Emiko took a deep drag on her cigarette and exhaled slowly, giving Eiri a small, rueful smile. "She was driving me quite mad, you know… I… I really am sorry I was so pushy when we were seeing each other, Yuki-san, but Aunt Ryoko kept pestering me to be seen in the company of successful men, and to get as many introductions as I could… I love her dearly, really I do… I mean, she paid for University and gave me a job in the gallery, but if this opportunity at the Paris gallery hadn't come up I _swear _I would have strangled her…"

Eiri didn't quite know what to say, so he took the course with which he was most familiar and said nothing. Even so, he felt a small, unexpected twinge – not exactly of regret, but of curiosity. He had never really bothered to think about what Emiko was about, or what pressure she might be under. They might have had more in common than he had ever realised. What was most curious of all, however, was the curiosity itself. Two years ago – maybe two months ago – Eiri wouldn't have cared even if he had known. Quite without thinking, Eiri glanced up the street once more, but Shuichi had gone.

Emiko looked at her watch. "Why are rich people never on time?" She gave another shrill laugh. "This client paid for my flight all the way from Paris just so she could meet one of Aunt Ryoko's favoured artists… and she doesn't care for hotels, either… had to rent a furnished apartment…" she nodded towards the block next to which they stood. "More money than sense if you ask me… Kohinata Kyo is a pretty lousy artist, but Madame Al Faisal seems to like… ah! Here she is!"

As Eiri watched, a large, dark, expensively dressed woman appeared in the doorway and waved to Emiko, who greeted her with a deep bow before embracing her with the showy exuberance of the arty set, speaking quite confidently in what sounded like French. To his further surprise, Emiko made no attempt to impress her client with their acquaintance, introducing Eiri only as an old friend before escorting the woman to her car.

Never the less, Eiri was rather relieved when the car roared off up the hill and he was left to continue his leisurely stroll back home. He had moved house since his involvement with Emiko, and there was no reason to believe she had known where he was going, but women like her were still best kept at a distance. The only satisfaction he could gain from the memory was that at least that time he had not had to rely on Seguchi to get rid of her.

The flat was quiet when Eiri let himself in, heading straight into the kitchen to dump his groceries on the counter. It sounded as though Shuichi wasn't in – there was no way the little brat could be this quiet – yet Eiri had quite certainly seen him walking up the hill. So where was he? Eiri felt a small stab of irritation. He had been looking forward to…

To what? Sex? He could have that any time with women more far skilled than Shuichi. Even so, if the kid was here, he might at least let Eiri know. Just so he didn't scare the crap out of him springing out at him from nowhere. And if he wasn't here, he could have left a message… just so Eiri had known not to bother buying enough wild salmon for both of them; it was so damned expensive.

Eiri shook his head. What the hell was he worrying over? If Shuichi had left him in peace for a night that was a good thing, right? Anyway, he was hungry and he was going to cook. If Shuichi was too late to share in the meal, that was his lookout. It was about time he kicked him out anyway. It must have been a week by now… though working from home gave Eiri a rather distorted sense of time…

He was reaching for his recipe cards when he noticed the cake box sitting by the coffee percolator. For a moment he eyed it doubtfully. But the careful script on the lid left no room for doubt.

_For Yuki, for making me welcome. Love, Shuichi._

Making him _welcome?_ The kid needed his head read. Eiri could even give him the name of a good shrink. All the same, he was unable to suppress a small shiver of pleasure, as he opened the box and inspected the chocolate cake. Not his absolute favourite, but then again the really good strawberries were out of season so this was probably a better choice. Letting Shuichi stay with him wasn't so bad after all…

Eiri was about to reach for a knife when he realised he still didn't know where the idiot was. Wandering into the lounge, Eiri actually started when he saw Shuichi seated on the sofa, knees drawn up to his chin, absently flicking channels on the television with the volume turned down.

Shuichi wasn't _always _noisy and restive, that had to be admitted. He could be remarkably sensitive to Eiri's moods when he paused long enough to think; keeping quiet when Eiri was working and behaving with real kindness when Eiri was tired. But now he looked unhappy. Probably some stupid argument with someone at work – no doubt Fujisaki had rearranged one of his songs again, or K had told him he wasn't in tune, or Hiroshi had… well, whatever, the possibilities were endless. The only question was why Shuichi wasn't already boring Eiri to death with the details. For some reason, Eiri didn't like it when Shuichi was this subdued.

"Are you going to do that all night, or do you want some supper?" he snapped.

Shuichi jumped, gaping at Eiri as if he had seen a ghost. _"Yuki!" _he cried, then gave him an odd, searching look as Eiri sat down beside him. "You're not going out tonight…?"

"Why the hell would I be going out?" Eiri demanded.

"Yuki!" At once, Shuichi's face brightened like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky. "Do you mean it? You're really staying home? Really? Oh _Yuki…!"_ Shuichi threw his arms about Eiri's neck and smacked one of those warm, wet kisses onto his lips. Childish though they were, Eiri had grown rather partial to such kisses even though he never let Shuichi see it. His melancholy apparently forgotten, Shuichi snuggled close, coiling his arms tight around his companion's waist and sighing blissfully that he loved him.

As Eiri absently stroked Shuichi's hair, he fought to suppress the smallest of smiles. Noisy, stupid, hyperactive, self-centred and immature though Shindou Shuichi might be, he was remarkably easy to please.

**THE END**


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